Aftermath
by DocWordsmith
Summary: The immediate aftermath of Eliot being post-monster. **MAJOR Season 4 Spoilers!** Intended to be a "reaction" scene with Eliot for the major finale event from S4E13. Queliot implications. Rated T only for some language. I own nothing.


The Aftermath

**MAJOR Season 4 Spoilers!**  
I needed some way to process the immense **feels**, and felt like we were lacking a "reaction" scene with Eliot. So here's this.  
Oh, and also: I am in epic denial about the S4 ending & refuse to accept it.

Everything hurts.

It's been. . . I don't even know how long since I last _felt_ anything. I've been the product of my own consciousness, a figment of my own imagination, for an indeterminate amount of time. Now, I'm part of my body again. And it's horrible. I can feel every inch of my physical being and it's nothing but searing pain.

The agony continues as I start to open my eyes and am blinded by too-bright fluorescent lighting, so I squeeze my eyes shut again. When I try, and fail, again, I suck in a sharp breath. Huge mistake, because that hurts, too – my lungs burn and a stabbing pain hits my ribcage before radiating out to the entirety of my body.

I hear voices, but they're distorted and faint so I can't make out what they're saying. I can't even tell how close they are, if they're in the same room or if they're miles away. Wanting to speak, I vaguely hear myself groan. Words escape me and apparently I am only capable of making incomprehensible utterances. My only hope is that whomever I hear, wherever they are, they will come to me. I silently beg them to take the pain away, in whatever way possible – a small part hopes for death. Losing consciousness seems like the best option at this point, so I give in and let the heavy, tired feeling take over.

When I wake up later, I'm overwhelmed with pain. Again. I think it's subsided some, though. It's slightly more tolerable. It must be, anyway, because I manage to open my eyes.

At first, the world is pure white and way too bright. Everything looks fuzzy. I rapidly blink a few times. Finally, my vision comes into focus and I find myself staring up at white popcorn ceiling, fluorescents glaring down on me.

I hear footsteps approaching, from a hallway maybe, and entering the room I'm in. I try to speak, but a soft, indiscernible rasp is all that comes out.

"Doctor!" a woman shouts, and her voice makes my head ache. The footsteps retreat but I can still hear the woman's voice, "He's awake!"

The woman returns to the room, followed by another set of footsteps. A pen-light shines in my eyes and I snap them shut, trying to escape the unnecessary brightness. I groan, and attempt to move. If the pain hadn't stopped me, the people surrounding me would have.

"Whoa, stay still," a man tells me in an authoritative voice.

"What do you think, Doctor?" the woman's voice asks.

"He's still pretty weak," the man says with a sigh. Then, he shifts so that he's hovering over me and I can see his face. "But consciousness is a good sign." He smiles down at me, but I can't tell for sure if he's talking to me, or the others, or both.

". . .mm," I groan again. My tongue feels heavy, like it doesn't really belong to me. The frustration is palpable and I want to fucking throw something. I attempt to raise my head, for some reason believing that will make talking easier. It only makes _everything_ so much worse and I let out a hiss, which is intended to be a swear word.

"Eliot, stop," a third voice says, forcefully.

Margo.

Her voice gives me a surge of strength and I attempt to sit up again. Someone – probably the doctor – places a hand on my shoulder and eases me back down on the bed.

"Don't try to move, or talk. You've endured some very serious injuries," the doctor informs me, his head hanging over my face again. "We've been able to manage most of the physical damage. But the magical wounds are proving more difficult to mend."

I give a vacant, partial nod, trying to let the doctor know that I hear him.

"Don't push yourself, Eliot," the man commands.

The nurse's face appears, hovering over me, and she says, "I'm going to give you some more medicine for pain and we'll be back to check on you later."

I want to be strong and responsible, to ask what they're giving me and tell them not to overdo it because I'm an addict and I need my mind and. . . shit, I hurt, though. So I don't try anything. I just lay still in the bed, like I was told to do, and I let them pump my IV—which I'm now aware of, embedded in my forearm—with whatever substance they choose and however much of it they want. Then, I let the medicinal bliss take over and drift into a chemically-induced sleep.

I wake up, or become aware of the fact that I'm awake, suddenly. I'm sitting upright in bed, sweating and panting. "Fuck," I say aloud. It comes out as a raspy whisper, but at least it's audible. I slowly run my fingers across the overly-starched, hospital-white sheets around me.

"It's about time!" Margo exclaims from somewhere in the room.

Groggily, I rub my eyes, trying to get them to focus again. Looking around the space, I finally find my best friend, sitting with her legs crossed and haphazardly flipping through a magazine in a chair that looks utterly uncomfortable, in a very hospital-esque kind of way. She drops the magazine and rises, maneuvering to my bedside with the ferocious grace that only Margo could pull off.

She drops down on my bed, scooting up closer to me. She entwines the fingers of my left hand with hers and then clasps both with her right hand, squeezing to a point that's almost uncomfortable. "I thought I lost you, ya little shit," she tells me forcefully, desperately trying to keep her bottom lip from quivering. "You can't leave me like that again," Margo says in a whisper. Then she adds, "Ev-er," in a growl that drags the syllables out.

"Okay," I reply, my voice sounding like a wheezy rasp. My throat feels like it's coated with glass and I let out an awkward cough.

Margo smiles, willing the teardrops at the corners of her eyes to return to their rightful place in her tear ducts. She kisses my hand before letting it go, then gives me a smug smile. "So, whenever you're ready to thank me for totally saving your ass, you should know that I will gladly accept gifts as offerings of gratitude."

I chuckle, then wince because that makes everything hurt again, but I force myself to recover so Margo won't worry. I give her a small smile and listen while she fills me in on some of the excitement I've missed. As she talks, I close my eyes and let myself doze off, finally feeling safe knowing that she's there.

A while later – maybe a few hours, maybe a day – I wake up, again. I sit up in the bed and smile to myself, feeling less pain and more like a human being again. I glance around and notice that Margo is gone and I'm alone in the room. With a sigh, I scoot up on the bed, positioning my pillow to prop myself up.

It suddenly strikes me that I should find out if I can walk. I swivel in the bed and drop my legs to the floor. The hospital gown I'm wearing is not the most flattering, but at least it's not one of the shitty paper ones or one that is open in the back – it's more like a large pajama shirt, making it, perhaps, a bit more dignified.

Slowly, I force myself to stand. It's arduous and painful, but possible. "Ha, good job, Waugh," I congratulate myself, coaxing my voice-box into action. My words still sound gravelly and rough, but I'm able to manage more than syllables. Hooray for improvement, right?

The sound of footsteps in the hall draws my attention. Each footfall is different, denoting multiple people. A crowd of diverse individuals. It has to be my friends – my tribe, my people. The beautiful, messy people that have become my chosen family. I lean back against the bed, sort of sitting on the edge of it, and wait for the group.

The throng of Magicians enter my room, single-file. Margo leads the charge and gives me a small smile when she sees me sitting up like a real boy. She side-steps, positioning herself close to my bedside. After her, Penny-23 walks in, pulling up to the foot of my bed and stopping abruptly. He leans forward, gripping the foot-rails of the hospital bed and fixing his gaze on the sheets.

Josh comes in next, with his usual lop-sided grin plastered on his face. He slithers around so that he's standing somewhat behind Margo. I make a mental note to ask Margo later about the goofy lovesick-puppy look Josh is giving the High King of Fillory.

I watch as Kady enters the room. She has bandages on her neck, chest, and forearms, and her eyes look dark and sunken. My heart aches slightly for the hedge witch, wondering what she has endured. I give her a purposeful nod, acknowledging whatever sacrifice she has evidently made.

Then Julia stalks into the room, stopping after she's a few feet in the doorway, angled between Penny and Margo. I wonder how she felt, after being freed from the grip of the Monster's Sister. She's looked better, so I assume she experienced some suffering of her own. She already has so many deep wounds, her entire character forged in scar-tissue. The quiet, solid strength about her is ever-present. But now there's something else. A darkness – one that I pray will fade for her, and that I hope does not devour me.

Behind Julia, still standing in the doorway and not fully entering the room, I'm somewhat surprised to see Alice. She's got her arms wrapped around herself and is staring at the floor, the sharp edges of her blonde hair shrouding her face.

A few minutes tick by as everyone holds their respective positions in a reverent silence. I wait for someone, anyone to speak. Nobody does. I scan their faces, as best as I can considering the fact that not one of them will make eye contact.

I decide to break the silence. Clearing my throat, I say, "Um, is anybody gonna say anything? I mean. . ." My words fall short, the snarky comment catching in my throat as realization hits me.

Of each body in the room, of all the faces avoiding my gaze, there's one missing. One all-important one. . .

The one I want most to see.

I scoot forward and force myself to stand again. Josh and Penny both stretch their arms out, as if to catch me. "No," I say, waving my hands to shoo them away. Standing is something I have to do on my own. My side aches, where Margo had slammed the ice axe into me to release the Monster. I put pressure on the slowly-healing magical wound. After a few wobbly seconds, I finally steady myself and stand, still gripping my side and remaining close to the bed just in case I lose my footing.

"Wh—Um," I start and stop. My throat is dry and scratchy. I clear it, lick my lips, and try again: "Where's Quentin?"

Still, no one speaks. Nobody moves. I'm pretty sure nobody even breathes.

A frantic feeling takes over. My eyes dart around the room, trying to catch the gaze of _anyone_. Kady's hair is covering her face and she's staring out the window. Penny's still fascinated by the hospital bed. Alice's eyes are downcast and remain hidden by her hair. Julia's looking straight ahead, past me, with a vacant look and her eyes glazed over. Josh's eyes focus on the back of Margo's head. And Margo's got the deer-in-the-headlights look that warrants my pet name for her, but she's got those big browns laser-focused on the wound in my abdomen.

"Where. Is. Quentin?" I growl, more ferociously than I really mean to. Another long silence and awkward gazes, looking anywhere but at me. I summon all the strength I have, willing my vocal chords to work: "One of you better look at me, and one of you better answer. I don't give a shit who it is. Don't make me ask again."

Alice lets out a strange little squeak and then sucks in a sharp breath. She lifts her head just enough for me to catch her eyes. They're red and puffy. Like she's been crying.

I steel my emotions, preparing to address the girl. "Al—"

"Eliot," Margo pipes up.

My head snaps in Margo's direction and I grit my teeth against a pain that shoots through my temples. I stare silently at Margo, waiting for her to speak now that she's volunteered herself.

She inhales slowly, deeply, purposefully, closing her eyes as she does. Her eyes open as she lets the breath out, even slower. "Okay, Eliot," she begins. Her goal still seems to be making eye contact with me, as her doe-eyes flit around the room. Her focus bounces from one object to another, floor to ceiling – anywhere but me.

After I couple minutes, I realize she's avoiding speaking, as well. "Margo?" I say, prompting her.

"Eliot," she says again, softer this time. "Um, so. . . well. . ." Margo clears her throat. She opens her mouth to speak then stops and closes it.

In all the time I've known her, in all her life I'm quite certain, Margo has never been speechless. Or incapable of coming up with words. She may not always have the classiest language or the most eloquent, but she can typically come up with something. Right now, words are not just failing her – they are evading her.

I glance over to Alice. Her glasses are fogging up and she looks like she's about to hyperventilate. In front of her, Julia maintains her ghost-like stare, but a tear runs down her face. I grip my stomach, trying to ward off the nauseous feeling that's taking over.

"Eliot," Margo says for the third time, her voice breaking. I can only look at her out of my peripheral vision. Her eyes are watering and she's biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. "I-You need to—" she gasps and fans her face, taking sharp breaths. "About Quentin. . ."

I completely go against my instincts, and the mood of the room, demanding, "Where the fuck is Quentin?"

Margo lets out a gut-wrenching cry. "I can't do this!" she sobs. "I'm sorry, El. I wanted to be—I _needed _to be the one to tell you. But I just _can't_." She spins around and covers her face with her hands, instantly becoming enveloped in Josh's arms. He buries his head in her neck and they stand still.

Alice stomps out of the room, her exit punctuated by sniffles and her own gasping breaths. Tears sting my eyes. I feel dizzy and can't tell if the room's swaying or if I am, so I grab the small bedside table. It's a poor decision since the table is on wheels, and I have to work even harder to stay standing up.

"Don't say it," I warn through gritted teeth, to no one in particular. "Don't you fucking say it," my eyes scan the room, daring anyone to be the bearer of the worst possible news.

So nobody says it. Or anything. The room falls silent again, except for the occasional sound of emotional release, such as Margo's sobs and Josh shushing her and whispering words that are probably meant to be comforting. Tears stream down Julia's stoic face, steadily and silently. Kady sniffles, running a hand through her hair and turning to sit against the windowsill, letting out a shaky breath.

I gulp. I find myself still hoping against all hope that I'm wrong.

This could be a horrific nightmare and I'll wake up any second now. I consider trying to push my finger through my hand, to lucid-dream, but I resist the urge.

Or maybe this is all a sick joke that Q, in his social awkwardness, has orchestrated. Maybe Alice will come back in the room with Q and he'll shoot a deck of cards into the air, like the prestige of an elaborate illusion. In that case, I would promptly punch him in the dick. And then probably cry tears of joy, before professing my love for him right there in front of everyone.

Even if it turned out that Monster was still controlling my body and this was some unexplored region of the fear-center of my brain – that would be preferable.

"Where—" I stop. Shaking my head and letting a rebellious tear escape, I decide to rephrase the question. "What happened to Quentin?"

Finally, perhaps in a show of mercy, the news is delivered: "He didn't make it."

I follow the sound of the voice, eyes settling on Penny, who is now standing directly in front of me. I don't even remember him moving away from the bed. His eyes are gentler than I've ever seen them, and he keeps his gaze locked on me, unwavering.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so, _so_ damned sorry." His words are heartbreakingly genuine, his voice oozing with guilt, and regret, and loss.

It suddenly dawns on me that I'm shaking my head fervently. I hear the word "no" being repeated, over and over like a mantra. And it takes a minute to realize I'm the one saying it.

"No, you're wrong," I hiss, laughing dryly. "He'll come back, or they'll save him, or whatever."

"No, Eliot," Penny urges, forceful but still kind. "I was there. He cast in the Mirror World. He saved us – all of us. The whole fucking world, actually."

"He's not gone. He'll come back," I say again. "Where is he?" is my next question. I regret it immediately, not sure I really want to know or see. . . _him_.

"He's gone, Eliot," Kady says from the window, finally raising her eyes to meet mine. "Like, _gone_ gone."

I know immediately what she's telling me: There is no body. Nothing for him to come back to or as. There's nothing to save.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and it steadies me in a way I didn't fully realize I needed. Looking into Penny's brown eyes, he offers a smile – the kind that would look wrong on anyone else, but somehow works on him.

"It was—um, well, it was actually kind of. . . beautiful," Penny explains.

My brain is still catching up. Suddenly, Penny's earlier declaration reverberates. "Q didn't. . . _make _it?" I swallow hard, feeling like I might gag on the words.

Penny shook his head. "He's gone, Eliot," the dark-skinned man tells me, sympathetically but still matter-of-fact. And that's all it takes.

The dam breaks.

I let out a shout, meant to be a "No," but coming out as just a raw, primal cry. The ground disappears beneath my feet and I drop to the floor. But I don't stop there. I feel myself falling farther and farther, endlessly. Some part of me is vaguely aware of the fact that I'm not actually falling; I didn't even hit the floor, actually. A pair of arms caught me and lowered me, gently, onto the edge of the bed.

I lean into the warm body and let the arms around me squeeze, holding me as tight as they're willing.

"I'm sorry," Penny's voice whispers in my ear. His arms pull me tighter and I bury my face in his shoulder, like Margo did with Josh. The tears flow freely and my body is racked with emotion, shaking and shivering as I sob into Penny's shirt.

There are shuffling footsteps and then Penny and I are the center of a giant ball of hugging and sobbing people – Margo and Josh and Julia, and even Alice had reappeared, and Kady who was stretching to reach us from the other side of the bed.

We stayed like that for what felt like—and may have very well been—hours. Until finally, one by one, we disentangled ourselves, wiped our eyes, and tried to look presentable to the rest of the world.

Josh suggests a bonfire, mumbling something about a "grieving circle" and we all provided some kind of sound of agreement. We agree to follow up with each other with the details, like where to go and what to bring, later. Then, everybody leaves, except Margo. I lay down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, and Margo curls up next to me. Neither of us speak. We just lay there.

And everything hurts.

FIN.


End file.
